


ravenous red

by AquaQuadrant



Category: Star Wars: The Clone Wars (2008) - All Media Types
Genre: Blood, Canon Compliant, Character Death, Decapitation, Dismemberment, Gen, Impalement, Injury, Song fic, Violence, basically maul's pov of order 66, character introspection, dark side: not even once, darth maul tribute, godspeed you funky little cockroach man, he's a spiteful unhinged badass and he's gonna let you know
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-05-20
Updated: 2020-05-20
Packaged: 2021-03-03 04:20:49
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,345
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/24278764
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/AquaQuadrant/pseuds/AquaQuadrant
Summary: i heard you wanted a warfunny, i wanted it more~*~So he says nothing, letting his gaze speak his hate as he relents, turning and walking away. It feels like disgrace, it feels like a failure, to go do her bidding-go cause some chaos,she taunts- but real victory lies in that which she does not yet know. Good at it,sure,he can admit as much, but the means to the end will be something she doesn’t expect. That’s how he’ll get her, collateral damage in this personal storm he directs.At her request.Lady Tano, you don’t know what you’ve just asked for.
Comments: 8
Kudos: 24





	ravenous red

**Author's Note:**

> **A/N:** I know I said my last oneshot was my tribute to the Clone Wars, but then I heard a song that fit Maul perfectly so I had to do a tribute to him. It’s actually a song fic, I’ve been writing fanfic since I was 13 but this is my first song fic so hopefully I did it right. This is basically Order 66 from Maul’s POV, nothin fancy here just Maul being a disturbing BAMF. Hope you enjoy! – Aqua
> 
> Song: Appetite for Destruction by Vo Williams (https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=ghwjKzFLcu0)

__

_ravenous red_

~*~

It starts with a scream.

Ringing out through the force like a shot, chaos crashing in after it. Words pass in flashes, snippets he can’t quite decipher. The impressions of feelings brush against him; shock, betrayal, desperation. He feels the flicker of lightning, a bygone but familiar sensation. Someone somewhere has made a very poor choice, one that will echo for ages, one that he expected.

(He did try and warn them)

It’s not long before they come. Identical faces behind identical helmets approach without words. They are rigid, unflinching, as they move to lower the shield that protects him, ensnares him, with unspoken intent written plainly as anything else.

Any lingering sympathy he has for these beings, these clones that were raised to be tools- as was he- dissipates like mist in the sun. To think, they would kill him like this. Trapped and defenseless. A coward’s method of choice; it insults him, right to the core. Let him out, let him _fight,_ he’ll give them a show. He’ll remove the spines they don’t deserve. They aren’t using them anyway.

The death in the air is a pulse in his brain, a constant crashing and ebb of bloody waves. It’s hard to concentrate, hard to mediate between what’s happening right in front of him and what’s happening lightyears away. The force is a furnace, thousands of bodies toppling into it to burn. It devours them gladly, wiping out light from the sky to leave nothing but smoke and ash in return.

He wants to join in, wants to destroy. Not a Sith, not quite, but he hunts like one still. The darkness beckons for him, a familiar cold, coursing through his veins. Yellow eyes glare through glass, burning with hatred and rage. He’d kill them, if only he could. He wants them to know it. He wants them to feel it.

If looks could kill, they’d already be dead.

_this is the end of your days  
it's time we end the charades  
open the cage, i want to play  
time for the bridges to blaze_

Blasters are raised- but cut down just as quickly.

His savior is a flash of blue. Unexpected but welcome (though he prefers red). Her hostility is unsurprising, her fear concealed well- but not completely. She feels the same death he does, but it frightens her, whereas it only strengthens his resolve. He will not fall as the Jedi do. He loathes the thought; there is too much unfinished business for him to perish now.

(Kenobi will survive this because Maul must be the one to kill him, no one else, he wills this with every fiber of his being- and will is a powerful thing, will allowed him to survive being cleaved in half)

Between the two of them, everything falls into place. His master’s plan, beautiful and deadly. Brilliant and artful. Cowardly and despicable. To strike them down with the men who were created to serve, to protect. They’re nothing but droids now, mindless droids coated in flesh. It doesn’t matter to him; he’d kill either way, but he knows that she won’t.

It’s good that she’s come to him, he’ll do it for her, do what must be done to get them out alive-

Except, no.

She rejects him. She wants to strike out on her own, condemn him to the same lonely fate. It’s foolish. So blinded by her lofty morals that she fails to grasp they’re both members of the same dying breed. The Padawan who might’ve joined him has retreated far beneath the surface, hiding under a cloak of denial at the vision he sees. Her attachment is strong, too strong, that she cannot accept the truth even when given freely.

How dare she? _How dare she?!_ Dare to use him and cast him aside, as so many others before- _always remember that you are nothing-_ this child in a warrior’s mask, thinking he’ll act as her pawn. No, not anymore.

Oh, he’ll kill her. He’ll kill her for that. So many ways to do it, weapon or no. Reach out a hand, reach for the force, strangle the breath from her lungs, crushing her throat in his grasp. In this moment, he hates so greatly he truly thinks that he could. Crush her throat, or crush her skull, he _wants_ to, grab her head and smash it against the wall. Red dripping down lekku of blue and white, a striking image it’d make, to be sure. He always did have an eye for these things.

He wants to see it.

_i'm slipping into a craze  
twisted images into the brain  
turn up the volume on the pain  
give me the feeling i crave_

But no.

Logic and reason win out. They dictate he cannot waste time on the likes of her. She proved a difficult fight before and his chances are slim as they are. Save his energy, save his effort for the real battle to come, for the ones who march to the tempo of death and come for him next, they’ll come for him just as well as for her.

Neither of them are Jedi but he knows they will not see it as so.

In the end that’s all that matters, how they will see you, how they _perceive_ you, all the words in the world make no difference at all. Words do nothing, only action can produce results, as he’s clearly been shown.

So he says nothing, letting his gaze speak his hate as he relents, turning and walking away. It feels like disgrace, it feels like a failure, to go do her bidding- _go cause some chaos,_ she taunts- but real victory lies in that which she does not yet know. Good at it, _sure,_ he can admit as much, but the means to the end will be something she doesn’t expect. That’s how he’ll get her, collateral damage in this personal storm he directs.

At her request.

Lady Tano, you don’t know what you’ve just asked for.

_show me your villainous ways  
show me the killer's awake  
make me afraid  
that's how you bring me to life  
make the adrenaline race  
i want a taste_

_i feel my rage erupting  
feed my appetite for destruction  
blood rushing  
i love when  
you feed my appetite for destruction_

Alone, he persists.

His path’s uncontested, legs of metal storming heavy and loud through the ship, not trying to hide. Let them come, he’ll be ready. This aggression needs somewhere to go, after all. It’s burning him up inside. He knows intimately what it’ll do to him, if he won’t let it out. The anger, the _pain._ It seeks to devour, a ravenous red haze flowing through him, taking control of his brain.

It guides him and he lets it. His stalk is a predator’s stalk, single-minded focus on the hunt. He’s not afraid. They’ll see they aren’t the only executioners at work today.

They find him quickly, scattered through the ship as they are, and greet him with a volley of fire. Metal bends to his will, peeling away like skin off of flesh. Weapons or no, he’s been given a task. He can be creative. The true measure of a warrior lies not in their blade. To wield power, he needs only to look within and ask.

The very walls of their ship become the instruments of their demise. He lifts without effort, advancing slowly but surely with an unbroken stride. Walls to deflect their shots, to smash them aside, to cut through armor, through flesh, and through bone. Two heads roll off with a thrust of his arm, slack faces concealed in their helms. Bodies crushed in between, crumbling limp to the floor. A sharp flick of the wrist pins one to the wall, sliced in half- the irony is not lost on him, but humor has no place here, in this tomb.

And finally, they make their retreat, aiming to seal him inside. But no, he’s not done with them yet. There’s something he needs and he’s not asking politely.

The arm comes off in the end, the vital comm-link still attached to the bracer. He slips it on, leaving the limb to bleed red on the floor, staining the armor- and he was right, what a striking image it makes. But he can’t linger long.

Chatter through the communicator gives him his next target.

Chaos… really, she should have been more specific.

_i heard you wanted a war  
funny, i wanted it more  
here comes the "bang-bang" on your door  
it's time to back up the noise_

_i've been ignoring the voice  
begging me seek and destroy  
it's eating my core  
feel like a time bomb in the eye of a storm_

He makes it to the engine room without interruption.

It’s cavernous, the floor far below, a pit spanned by narrow bridges. It’s protected, as he expected, clones charge to stop him but they matter not. Their efforts are wasted. Over the edge they go; others fall to commandeered blaster fire, or to his fists. He will succeed by any means. It’s futile of them to resist.

(They can’t help it, he knows, but he doesn’t care- he wants their blood anyways)

The dark side has never flowed more strongly within him. It’s a wellspring inside his chest, filling him completely with inky black cold. Their will is one and the same; burn it all. He reaches out, power surging, fueling his rage as it takes hold. All around him, machinery falls. Sparks rain down from above as reactors are peeled off the walls.

He’ll tear them apart from within. Metal shrieks and groans as he pries it away. The ship’s hyperdrive core is his aim. Without it, they’re stranded. Him as well, but he’s not planning to stay. There must be shuttles, and nothing will get in his way.

The doors part, and another squadron advances to stop him- but they’re too late. He topples the reactors on top of them and down it all goes, crashing to the floor far below, sealing their fate.

And with that, it’s time to take his leave.

_let all the chips hit the floor  
do everything that you want  
settle the score  
that's how you bring me to life  
that's when I'm feeling recharged  
i want it all_

_i feel my rage erupting  
feed my appetite for destruction  
blood rushing  
i love when  
you feed my appetite for destruction_

The flight deck is a battlefield.

She’s here- but _of course-_ attempting to hold off the rest of the forces, their volley of fire. Somehow, someway, she’s pulled one to her side. Her little captain fights bravely, but there’s too many, it won’t be enough.

He senses opportunity, another chance perhaps to make her see. Come to her aid now and she’ll have no choice but to accept. Offer survival; a joint escape from this wreckage for her and her dog (though he cares not for three). Two are better than one, even if two is the way of the Sith, which he’s _not._ Their chances are better together. He knows this. He feels this.

Except, no.

She already had her chance, she had _three._ She rejected him. She scorned him. She cast him aside. _You lie,_ she told him. _Your vision is flawed._ Arrogant. Stubborn. He hates her. He _hates_ her. 

Within a second, his choice is made. He runs past, towards the ship that would be her salvation- now it’s his. She pursues, he deflects; a dangerous dance. The world’s falling around them, and still they cannot help but fight- it’s in her nature, in her nature as well as in his.

 _You wanted this chaos,_ he taunts.

Then, without mercy, he pushes her over the edge.

_i feel the monster rising up inside and i can't hold it down  
i'm hungry for destruction  
pieces crumbling, fall into the ground_

_i feel my rage erupting  
feed my appetite for destruction  
blood rushing  
i love when  
you feed my appetite for destruction_

She’s still alive when he leaves.

His ship arcs away from the crash, plowing through smoke and fire. The entire carrier is doomed, every last soul aboard sharing its fate. Escape pods destroyed, no more ships to salvage. Surely, then, this is their end- but not his.

(He did tell them they’d all burn; but while some burn in fire, others burn _with_ it)

There’s no remorse in his escape. It’s a measure of strength; only he was enough to get out alive. He cares not for her, for how she will burn. She deserves it. In fact, he’d say out of all the beings on that ship, she’s the only one. The droids-who-were-clones cannot ‘deserve’ a fate either way. Every action is the command of somebody else, not their own.

A great victory for his master. The thought curls his lip. But he’ll count his blessings; he survived, and as the galaxy is reshaped, he knows that he has all the skills required to thrive. A tool he might be, but a sharp one. A deadly one.

His master saw to that. He should thank him. Maybe he will- before he kills him.

As for her... the possibility lingers that she might’ve survived as well. Resourceful. Determined. He sensed these traits in her. But he truly hopes that she hasn’t, that the firestorm has swallowed her whole. Not for his sake, but hers. Because if she survived, then the next time he sees her- and he will, if she has- she won’t be so lucky simply to burn.

He will kill her slowly, painfully. Unimaginable agony. Broken in body and mind. Enough to beg for death. Enough to understand what he’s felt, the culmination of all his suffering- truly, a fate to wish on no one.

Best to be taken in fire and chaos.

Lady Tano, isn’t that what you wanted?

_i feel my rage erupting  
feed my appetite for destruction  
blood rushing  
i love when  
you feed my appetite for destruction_

~*~

**Author's Note:**

>  **A/N:** Hope you enjoyed, please **leave a comment** if you did! This fic is also on Tumblr if you'd like to reblog it there. Thanks for reading! - Aqua
> 
> Tumblr: https://aquaquadrant.tumblr.com/post/618589481024503808/ravenous-red


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